


Love Me Tender

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: But also smutty, F/M, Whump, little bit whumpish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 06:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16341161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: Phryne and Jack are feeling the pain of a recent adventure.





	Love Me Tender

**Author's Note:**

> For the MFMM Whumptober prompt "bruises."
> 
> Also, I whumped pretty hard already - this one's lighter, I promise. ♥

Jack let out a small hiss as his bruised back and shoulder protested an ill-considered attempt to lean against the wall at his crime scene. Awkwardly, he straightened, tucking his hands in his pockets. Last night had been… eventful, to say the least, and he was feeling it this morning. His back ached from where he’d hit the corner of the doorframe, shoved there by impatient hands, and every time he lifted his shoulder, he felt the place where the bricks along the front of the fireplace had caught him.

Inside his pocket, he touched the smaller bruise that sat at the top of his thigh, and thought of the black-and-blue mark that rode his hip from a collision with the sofa in Phryne’s parlor. Eventful was definitely the word for it.

With a shake of his head, he pulled his hands away from his pockets and crouched to examine the body. He had a job to do, and no more time to give to a cataloguing of his bumps and bruises.

 

* * *

 

Phryne felt a spring in her step as she marched down the alley toward Jack. She ached a bit, but she considered the bruises she carried to be badges of honor. Today’s pain was a small price to pay for what they’d achieved last night. 

“Hello, Jack!” She infused her tone with brightness, enjoying the narrow-eyed look he gave her. “How are you this morning?”

“Sore,” he grumbled, standing up from his crouch, “no thanks to you.” His words and tone bordered on rude, but his eyes twinkled at her. 

“Don’t be like that,” she said, stepping up beside him, her shoulder gently touching his. “It was all very rewarding, I think.”

He tilted his head, as if considering her statement, then nodded slightly. “Perhaps in future, we can manage to find a less dangerous space.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Jack,” she purred, tucking her hand through his arm and looking up at him under her lashes, “I think my parlor is terribly comfortable.” 

“Not for that kind of acrobatics, Miss Fisher,” he said, his tone drier than dust. 

“I’ll be more careful next time, then.” With a grin, she changed the subject, finally looking away from him to cast her eyes over the crime scene. “So what happened here, do you think, inspector?”

 

* * *

 

That night, Jack followed Phryne into her boudoir, whiskey in one hand, fingers of the other tangled with hers. His muscles had loosened up considerably over the course of the day, but the alcohol was appreciated nonetheless.

“Here, Jack,” Phryne said, her tone low and seductive, “let me help you.”

With a small smile, he let her undress him as he toed off his shoes, keeping his hands to himself as she opened each button slowly and carefully, her fingertips gentle against his abused skin as she divested him of his layers.

“Oh.” When his torso was bare, she leaned in to press a light kiss to a small, round bruise over his heart. “I didn’t know about this one.” 

“There are more like that,” he admitted, letting amusement color his voice. “Teeth.”

“Well, biting can happen when one is overwhelmed,” she remarked with a smile as she dropped his clothing into a neat pile on the sofa and her hands fell to his waistband.

Jack let out a small snort of laughter as he raised his whiskey to his mouth. Distracted, Phryne lifted a hand to cup the back of his raised arm, her fingers trailing over the curve of his bicep, tracing the line of the vein that ran its length. Abandoning his waistband, she moved around him, her fingers trailing across his shoulders. She paused at his back, and he felt the warm press of her lips against the bruise that angled from his shoulder blade to his spine.

“Did I do this?” Her breath was hot, her fingers gentle, and Jack closed his eyes to better experience both.

“Door frame,” he murmured.

“Mmm.” She moved another step, and he felt her palm curve over his shoulder, her lips dipping to touch that bruise as well. “And this?”

“Fireplace.” He could feel his breathing deepen, aware of the stretch of his ribcage within his chest in a way that he rarely was except with her.

Phryne leaned against his back, the silk chiffon of her blouse a soft harmony to the slide of her hands across his belly and down to his waist. Her lips pressed against the unbruised side of his back as her quick fingers unfastened his trousers and pushed them and his undershorts down. He leaned his head back to rest against the top of hers as she palmed his cock, long, sure strokes that drew a groan of pleasure from deep inside him. 

Unable to keep from touching her, he reached back to clutch at her hip with his free hand, curling the empty whiskey glass against his chest with the other. At the gentle scrape of her teeth against his neck, he squeezed, wanting her to feel how much he liked it, but she let out a small, pained gasp.

“Phryne?” Jack lifted his head and turned to face her, reaching to set his whiskey glass on the bedside table.

“I’m fine, Jack,” she said, smiling. 

“Let me see,” he demanded, kicking his trousers off to one side as he reached for her skirt closure. He slid the black material off her body along with her knickers, leaving only her garter belt and stockings, and grimaced. “Oh, Phryne.”

Dark smudges marred the pale alabaster of her thigh on one side, disappearing under the top edge of her stocking; similar bruises marked her opposite hip. It was easy to tell that they’d been caused by clenching hands, because the outlines of his fingers were clear.

“Jack,” she said, her voice soft, “I really am fine.” She laid a hand against his cheek and urged his face up so that he could meet her eyes. “No regrets.”

Jack tilted his head to look at her. Her smile was sure and bright, her hands on his skin gentle.

“I marked you,” he said, his voice rough with apology.

“I marked you first.” Her fingers trailed over his bruised shoulder. “I didn’t mean to push you against the wall so hard.”

“You made it up to me,” he murmured, stepping close to take her in his arms, his mind flashing back to what she’d done with her mouth after he’d hit the doorframe. The image of her hand splayed on his chest as her dark head moved at his waist was seared in his memory.

Phryne looped her arms up and around his neck, smiling even as she kissed him. “I left some bruising there too,” she laughed into his mouth, her teeth nipping at his lower lip.

“I like that kind of bruising.” His nostrils flared as he spoke those words; he would never have thought he’d enjoy being marked by a woman, but the small, round bruises she left all over his body from the suction of her mouth or the nip of her teeth only served to remind him that what they had was real and strong. If he ever doubted it, all he had to do was put pressure on one of those spots and the reality of them came flooding back.

“Honestly, I think I am the one more at fault here—the roll into the fireplace surround was my fault as well. I just needed to ride you.” The last words came out in a whisper, and she followed them with a deep, penetrating kiss. 

Jack’s hands dropped to cover her bottom, bared beneath her gauzy blouse, and he groaned at the sensation of her soft skin against his fingertips. Suddenly, it was all he could do to keep from gripping her hard enough to bruise again. Without breaking the kiss, he bent his knees slightly to cup a hand under her thigh and bring his cock into alignment. The sound she made as he pushed inside her body sent pulses of pleasure down his body, hardening him even further. In this position, he couldn’t quite get his whole length inside, nor could he move far, but the slow, shallow movements felt amazing, nonetheless.

Phryne’s hands gripped his hair as she flexed her arms; she lifted her body against his, wrapping her other leg around his waist, and Jack took first one staggering step, then another, before laying her across the bed.

Keeping his rhythm slow and close, he pleasured them both; he slid one hand between their bodies to touch his fingertips to her clitoris, swallowing the sighing moan she emitted. Her hands clutched at his neck, his shoulders, pressing sharp nails into the bruises she’d left him with the night before, but Jack didn’t change his tempo. He wanted her release to roll like thunder rather than striking sharp as lightning. He could feel her beginning to move her hips against him in an effort to deepen his thrusts or speed them up, but it wasn’t until she added a swivel of her hips that his determination faltered.

“Jack!” She gasped, arching her long neck as she curled her pelvis toward his. “I can’t… please…”

With a gentle murmur of reassurance, Jack dropped his mouth to the base of her neck and picked up the pace, his hips slewing against hers. As he felt her begin to quiver, he set his teeth against the spot where her neck and shoulder met and bit down—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to let her know that he _could_. Phryne let out a long, low scream as orgasm washed over her, the muscles inside her body squeezing his length in slow, intense pulses. Groaning, Jack let himself go, his own release a hard press of his body into hers.

When his muscles unlocked, he lifted his head, realizing then that she still wore her blouse and stockings, and that the blissful look on her face said she didn’t care. A new spot of red at the base of her throat heralded the beginning of yet another bruise. Lifting a hand, he traced it with a light fingertip.

“Damn.”

Phryne’s smile was feline, her half-closed eyes sparkling. “You’re a menace. I should call the law.”

He grinned, leaning in to press a light kiss to her mouth. “If ever you need a servant of the law, Miss Fisher, I am quite at your disposal.”

“I’m sure that I can think of some use for you,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck again. 

“I do like to be useful,” he murmured, and swallowed her laughter as he kissed her one more time.


End file.
